Free Butterfly Swords by Jeannie Lin Page B

swallowed her cry, using his hands to circle her wrists: rough enough to make her breath catch, gentle enough to have her opening her knees, cradling his hips with her long legs. He stroked himself against her, already hard beyond belief. He groaned when she responded, instinctively pressing closer.
    ‘I need to see you,’ he said.
    The sash around her waist fell aside in two urgent tugs while his other hand stole beneath her tunic. She gasped when his fingers brushed the swath of cloth at her breasts. The faint, helpless sound nearly lifted him out of the haze of desire.
    He didn’t want to think too hard about this. Not yet. He felt for the edge of the binding.
    ‘In back.’ She spoke in barely a whisper, a sigh on his soul.
    She peered up at him, her face in shadow as he parted her tunic. She watched him in much the same way she had when they had first met: curious, fearless, her eyes a swirl of green and gold. He pulled at the tight cloth until Ailey’s warm, feminine flesh swelled into his hands.
    He soothed his palms over the cruel welts left by the bindings. She bit down against her lip as blood rushed back into the tortured flesh. With great care, he stroked her nipples, teasing them until they grew tight beneath his roughened fingertips. God’s breath. Perfect. He wanted his mouth on her and still it wouldn’t be enough. Her heart beat out a chaotic rhythm. His own echoed the same restless pulse.
    ‘I knew it would be like this.’ His words came out hoarse with passion.
    At that moment he’d have given his soul to have her. But somewhere in his thick skull, he knew he had a beautiful, vulnerable girl who trusted him pressed against the bare earth. He sensed the hitch in her breathing and how her fingers dug nervously into his shoulders, even as her hips arched into him.
    He ran his thumb gently over the reddened mark that ran just below her collarbone and felt her shiver beneath him. With Ailey’s swords and determined spirit, it was easy to forget that she was innocent. He couldn’t close his mind and let himself sink into the pleasure of the moment. Actions had consequences and he needed to tear himself away while he still could.
    ‘Please.’
    Her breath stroked softly against his ear and made him want to forget the consequences. He buried his face against her neck, against the softest skin in the world. His hand trailed down over the smooth plane of her stomach. She gasped as his fingertips slid past the edge of her trousers.
    ‘Please stop.’
    Startled, he released her. She sat up and backed way, fumbling for her tunic.
    ‘We can’t.’
    She clutched the edges of the garment over her chest defensively. A wave of dark hair fell loose around her face. The sight of it sent another stab of lust through him. His body ached, every fibre wound tight, not yet realising that he would never have her. The taste of her lingered in his mouth.
    He turned away and could hear nothing but the rustle of cloth as she dressed herself. By God’s bones, he hoped she wasn’t crying.
    ‘It cannot be this way between us,’ she said brokenly.
    ‘I know.’
    ‘Never with you.’
    Her words cut to the quick and poured ice into his veins. When she faced him, her eyes were dry. Her hands tugged nervously at her clothing as if she would never be able to set herself right.
    ‘Nothing happened, Ailey. No harm done.’
    His tone held more of a bite than he intended. She shot him a hard look in reply and then bent to scoop up her knapsack. Turning on her heel, she headed down the river, her braid swinging across her back.
    He supposed anger was preferable to tears. With a curse, he fastened the sword belt about his waist. This was why he didn’t seduce virgins. Too many complications. And he had stopped far short of seduction, by his reckoning. She still had half her clothes on at the worst of it. He muttered a final oath before following after her, refusing to hurry to catch up.
     

    Ailey’s cheeks burned with the